Bend
by Sekah
Summary: A short spat leads to a competition of bravery, submission, and manliness when Hiei, Kurama, and Yusuke get into a war as to who can go the farthest under bondage and still retain their self control. But when the ropes tie too tight and the stakes become higher, dirty truths start spilling out into light which reveal the darker sides and fears of all three fighters. Yu/Kura/Hi.


"Bend over the desk, bitch."

Kurama gave him a cold once-over, his eyes darkening. Then they lightened, and his lips–forced sodden and round by the ball-gag shoved between them–twitched into a devious little smile, just the corners. It was hidden by the rough nylon straps that wrapped crudely around his head, disappearing into his mane of red hair.

His breath hissed through the holes in the rubber, wheezing. His arms were haltered behind his back, and he prowled as he followed the order, slowly, his ass swaying invitingly as he moved, all vulpine grace that was more commonly associated with the precision of his other body. He was naked but for red leather bondage cuffs with little rings for feeding a rope or chain through, decorating his slim ankles.

Kurama taunted and teased them with each maddening motion of his perfect body, hearing Yusuke moan out a curse, until his knees and hips pressed against his own cluttered desk in his Tokyo apartment, and he bent, and oh, they could see everything, round ass and hole and dangling cock and balls. Kurama lay his slender upper body, already coated with a new sheen of sweat, against the smooth, cold papers and briefs he'd been working on before his two tormenters had shown up, eager and ready for a session with him, so needy he couldn't refuse. His muscles stood out on his painfully restrained arms. He didn't look girlish, as Yusuke had expected: more like a dancer. Graceful. Beautiful. He almost told him that, but that wasn't what this fuck was about.

It had been a bet. They'd gotten drunk, the three of them, and Yusuke had introduced the conversation. A war, of sorts: a competition. Who could last the longest, who could torment the cruelest, in sex and seduction. Kurama went along, smiling that coy smile of his; Hiei was all arrogant pride; Yusuke earnestly desired to win, his love of a fight aroused, and let's face it, justplain aroused by the idea.

"Fuck, whore," Hiei sneered, Yusuke hanging back, a bit shy. "Look at you. I can see you, you know, you fucking slut." Kurama's eyes, green and clear, flicked back at Hiei over his shoulder.

"Don't look at your master like that, bitch," Hiei snapped, and his hand darted out, quick as a viper, to fist in Kurama's curls and jerk him half off the desk in a stark arch, several papers sticking to Kurama's blushing chest, his hips still pressed against the sharp wooden edge, Yusuke gasping at the cut, muffled cry that Kurama let out at the painful stinging ache in his arms and scalp. He was turned into a slap that left his senses reeling.

The gag was unbuckled and yanked out, with a suggestive line of spittle connecting it to Kurama's drenched, panting lips.

"Apologize," Yusuke said, voice a little higher with arousal and confusion as he tried to settle into the role. "Then you've got to suck my cock."

"I'm going to beat you as he does, you nasty whore," Hiei muttered into Kurama's ear, washing the sensitive shell with his moist, hot breath. "I'm going to belt you, and jerk you. Be sure not to bite, now." Intelligent green eyes fixed on his, and he smirked, relishing the superiority.

He nodded to Yusuke, who gulped and strode over, eyes skittering over Hiei's bare, dusky chest and Kurama's nude body. He undid his fly and shoved his pants and boxers down his hips, for ease of movement, revealing a good-sized cock, and watched nervously as Hiei manipulated the fox, turning him sideways to the desk and hooking his leg over it, spreading him wide so the belt would strike cock and balls, instead of just ass and thighs.

Kurama shifted, uncomfortable, but Hiei ordered stay, and Kurama did, his eyes narrowing slightly again.

"I haven't heard an apology," Yusuke taunted breathlessly.

Kurama waited a beat, that piercing intelligence in his gaze again, and just as Yusuke got close enough, his long dick bobbing with his footsteps, to smell the spicy herbs and cool scents of fruits and flowers that clung to Kurama, with the new, intoxicating addition of arousal, musk, and sweat, Kurama murmured, "Forgive me, master, please - I am unworthy, but forgive me." His husky, melodious tone made Yusuke's mouth go dry. It was so cliche, but the smoky hoarseness of Kurama's voice as he said master–rough from the ball-gag they deferred for now–made Yusuke's head feel light as blood raced to different parts of his body in a rush.


End file.
